


The Wolves of the Vallis

by SpireofBone



Series: FH AU [2]
Category: Warframe
Genre: A bit of gore, Gen, Short One Shot, Tags Are Hard, a lot of warframes, but not in English, lost characters, operators are mentioned, warframes can talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpireofBone/pseuds/SpireofBone
Summary: Sometimes, Corpus speak of a group of strange Warframes called 'The Wolves of the Vallis' who seem to work independently of the rest of the tenno. this fic focuses on one particular Nezha, a member of the Wolves named Letters.(yes I know that 'The Wolves of Saturn Six' was a thing but there can be more  one group with the word Wolf in its title)
Series: FH AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593244
Kudos: 11





	The Wolves of the Vallis

The wind whipped outside of Letter’s little hideaway. He didn’t want to be there, watching the snowdrift in front of his cave slowly grow, but he didn’t have a choice. He had given up on having a normal fire after injuring his left hand in a fight, and just let fire from his abilities warm him. The Nezha hugged himself tighter, the wind howled louder. Letters missed home. He missed curling up to his mate, Solar’s, side and listening to Solar’s breathing, and the faint crackle of electricity Solar sometimes emitted. He would miss his operator, but he was sure she was dead. So he shoved himself further into the corner, watching the little trail of green flames that his scooting left. Letters planted his face in his knees. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be left on the Vallis for years, away from everyone he loved. He didn’t want the guilt that came from not being by his tenno’s side as she died. He wanted to be with Solar. He wanted for his tenno to be alive. He wanted to be back at Talon Clan, where the worst thing that happened was Mae broke a gun for the fiftieth time and Threa messed with someone. That was all Letters wanted. But that wasn’t what he had. Letters glanced outside, he wouldn’t get medical supplies from wanting. He needed to go.

Letters snuck along the vent of a Corpus base, knife in one hand, the other held to his chest. He was aware that he might be leaving a trail of dark blue blood, but it was a vent. Vents didn’t have crewmen in them. He dropped into a med bay and ruffled through a nearby cabinet. Just simple gauze would do, he just needed to keep his hand functioning. He heard a rustling and threw his dagger, watching the jagged edge graze a corpus crewman and plant in the wall next to them. Realizing it didn’t hit, Letters lunged forward, summoning a divine spear. There was the sound of bone and flesh breaking and flesh sizzling, and then Letters had retrieved his knife and finished the job. If Letters could talk, he would have cursed. A Chakram would have risked damaging his ring but cost less energy. He wasted too much taking out one crewman. Letters returned to shuffling through medical supplies. He bandaged his hand as quickly as possible, sucking in a breath. It hurt like hell now that he acknowledged it. Where injuries supposed to hurt this much? Letters thought to himself, concerned that more damage might have been done then he though. Hearing footsteps, Letters bolted back into the vent, accidentally using his injured hand, causing the wound to re-open under the bandage. Letters bit back more cries as the Corpus looked around, discussing the dead body, the scorch marks, and the cabinet. Eventually, they all formed at the spot Letter’s knife had hit the wall. With them distracted, Letters crept away.

The wind picked up pace and Letters pushed further into it, wading through snow. He couldn’t see more than three feet ahead of him. He didn’t know where he was going. He let himself cry now that he was away from where he might be noticed. Letters had never been able to speak Warframe. The Orokin considered his muteness a plus. But he could still make guttural, screeching noises. And he did. Letters wailed into the cold, unforgiving sky, he wailed incoherently, even to other warframes, but he still tried letting out his sorrows.

Letters wasn’t as unheard as he would have liked. There were other lonesome frames, and although he didn’t form words, other warframes howled back. Others who had lost there tenno, or been abandoned, howled with Letters in a cacophonic testament to fate. The howling went on for about an hour and a half. Then, each of the frames went quite for one reason or another. The Corpus called the lost frames who howled in the night the ‘Wolves of the Vallis’, for they were wolf-like. Some formed packs, some stayed loners, like our dear friend Letters. Occasionally, large packs of these lost frames would gather to talk. Sometimes, they would fight. But they did this out of sight, normally during the night, these Wolves of the Vallis.


End file.
